Timelines
by infamouslastwords
Summary: J-Rock. Miyavi/Mayatan, mentioned Mayatan/Aiji, Miyavi/OC slash. A story following Miyavi's and Maya's timelines as they intertwine and separate.
1. prologue

**title: **timelines  
**author:** infamouslastwords (u/1511143/)  
**genre:** romance, angst  
**pairing:** Miyavi/Mayatan, mentioned Maya/Aiji, Miyavi/OC  
**rating:** NC-17  
**warnings:** two men sexing, language, scenes of graphic sexual nature  
**summary:** JROCK. miyavi x mayatan, mentioned mayatan x aiji, miyavi x oc. a story following miyavi's and maya's timelines as they intertwine and separate. MA MATURE CONTENT MALE/MALE RELATIONSHIP  
**comments:** revamped for easier reading. hope you enjoy! P.S. I'm now accepting requests for fan fiction! Got a favorite slash pairing? PM me!

* * *

0.9 PROLOGUE

* * *

Miyavi, apparently, was told he had no need for a backup guitarist anymore; Or, for that matter, a backup band. He could play guitar himself at lives and a band hanging around was considered extra money to Universal.

Miyavi thought marriage, even if it wasn't in the most traditional fashion, meant compromise. Apparently that wasn't so when your partner was a record company.

Miyavi thinks that on the occasion of birthday celebrations, the object of celebration is supposed to be treated fairly, that people are supposed to respect said object because it is their day.

Universal must've not received the memo.

Sad songs play in his head, paired with the happy memories of his band on stage, his former guitarist with a foot on the frontal speaker next to him. Drums in the background, bass pulling through, and smiles- just wide smiles from Maya and himself. They fade to black slowly, like the ending to a movie that doesn't know how to end. It's torture to Miyavi, and that's why he does it.

Over and over and over and over and-

"People change when they get older, Ki-Ah," Maya states plainly, calling Miyavi by his Korean name. It is a phase the dirty blond is going through. Only this is not the Maya that Ki-Ah knows, because this Maya is without a large smile on his features. Without a spark in his dark eyes. Without a cause, especially when he's sitting across the table, a large pink birthday cake between them.

Miyavi frowns at the cake's candle-covered surface, his mind denying it. He isn't a year older. He can't be. He's too young to be twenty-five already.

"I know you have to be aware of that, Mr. Peter Pan Syndrome; A very unhappy birthday to you, right?"

There is no denying the harshness in those words, the cruel smirk hiding a deep line of sorrow and hurt.

He blows out the candles, not hungry for the sugar-spiked goo covering white cake.

A very unhappy birthday it is.

* * *


	2. don't try

* * *

1.2 DON'T TRY

* * *

"I'm leaving, Ki-Ah!" Maya shouts from downstairs, in front of the open front door. Miyavi assumes that his former guitarist is there, by the door, because that's what it's always like in the television dramas, when someone is leaving. He assumes this because he can't see very well with his face shoved in a pillow, upstairs on his bed. Suitcases, he presumes, are at Maya's sides also, on account of the lack of clothing in the closet, in the open dresser drawers, crumpled on the floor.

And, it wouldn't be much of a drama if there were no suitcases.

"Don't try and stop me or anything!!"

There is a frustrated scream and a mad shuffle, then the slamming of a door. Miyavi wants to say something but the words are stuck in his throat. It's like a thousand sakura blossoms have been shoved down his throat, filling up his lungs instead of air. He is suffocating on the pink petals, the hard bark. He can't bring his head from his pillow to dissuade Maya's journey to the nearest hotel.

Miyavi cannot say anything.

* * *


	3. puppets don't think much

* * *

1.7 PUPPETS DON'T THINK MUCH

* * *

Miyavi doesn't think much of him anymore. Miyavi doesn't think much anymore. Thinking hurts too much, and he doesn't like hurt- maybe besides the kind of hurt that comes to his fingers after playing acoustic for hours on end, or screaming at the top of his lungs to a song supposed to be whispered.

So, he doesn't think.

Universal has demands and he is a puppet, simply a marionette to be warped as pleased. This feeling is a hard one to swing out of, even when he isn't working. He has no feelings, no emotions, and no needs to be disobedient. He has lost all control- Universal decides what he says and when he says it, when he works and for how long, the clothes in his closet and how he wears them- now they're even trying to dictate what he puts in his mouth. One would think that a six foot Japanese guy wouldn't have to try that hard to maintain Bantam weight, but go figure; Universal has. Maya used to make him Pad Thai, but now that's sitting in the trash out by the curb, waiting to be taken far away.

* * *


	4. stairs

* * *

1.9 STAIRS

* * *

"What do I owe you?!"

Miyavi hears an unfamiliar voice shout, from the first flight of steps. There is no reply, but it's not exactly like Miyavi is listening. He continues up and sees a small object fall down the stairs, bouncing on the carpet until it breaks before his feet. He steps over it, faintly recognizing one of the faces in the picture frame. It's Maya.

"What the fuck could I possibly owe you?!"

Miyavi turns and begins walking back down the stairs.

* * *


	5. reluctance and tea

* * *

2.1 RELUCTANCE AND TEA

* * *

"So, is Moco-Chang your girlfriend?"

Maya smiles wickedly across the table, then turns to look out the restaurant's front window. He brings his teacup to his lips before replying to Miyavi's careful question.

"What is I said yes? Would I still be invited back to your place tonight?" Miyavi thinks that Maya's lips are beautiful when he speaks, and this thought makes a bitter frown on his mouth as his opposite brings the teacup back down to the Formica table. Maya's grin is possibly wickeder. "Or is Universal expecting you home early?"

The spurn lashes across Miyavi like a splash of scalding oil. He looks down, guilty and regretful, knowing that Maya's amusement is only out of blame. He turns his eyes away from Maya's profile, shaking his lanky leg underneath the table to keep his remaining sanity.

There can't be much of it left, especially after agreeing to meet Maya so late at night.

"Well? Answer me, Ki-Ah."

And after such a long, agonizing time.

Miyavi doesn't meet his former guitarist's eyes, instead watching as his finger stretch over the lip of his cup, swirling its contents. Miyavi isn't very hungry anymore.

"In all fairness, Maya, I asked you a question first." Miyavi knows he doesn't sound like himself. He feels strange in his own colourful clothes. "Remember?"

"Fair enough." Maya leans back in his booth seat, setting down his cup and doing the same with his arms. The look on his face doesn't suit him. "It was Aiji's idea. He said I made up the lovely part, and he was the Moco-Chang part. It's sort of a nickname, like how you are Ki-Ah, Ki-Ah."

Maya must know how many sleepless nights that name spoken by those lips have given Miyavi.

"So you gave Aiji-san the nickname."

Maya grins sideways, as if recalling a fond memory. "That's beside the point. I've answered your question." He reaches playfully across the table and wraps a finger around one of Miyavi's. "So now answer mine."

That signature grin now returns to Miyavi's face, and there's wildness in his eyes. He could convince anyone of genuine spazzaucity as he pulls Maya's hand forward, situating them so that both of their hands are palm-to-palm.

"I'm tired Maya-kun," Miyavi complains cutely, bringing the other's hand up to his lips and kissing it. He keep his dark eyes on Maya's, acting lustful in only a way Miyavi can. "I don't think I'll be able to drive myself home safely; you know, without…" Miyavi licks his bottom lip divinely, bringing the corner of it beneath a canine, "…accidents…"

Maya pulls slightly at his lip ring from across the table, guiding memories from the back of his mind – memories from before. "I rather like the way you answer my questions, Ki-Ah…" He slides like silk into Miyavi's booth seat, wrapping an arm around his skinny waist.

Miyavi scoots closer, welcoming the long-lost and long-wanted body heat. Even if it's just a game, Miyavi thinks that it's nice to be back in someone's arms. He looks into Maya's dark brown eyes, innocently at first; but underneath is suggestiveness so open that Ki-Ah knows when Maya notices.

"You'll like the other things I do, too, Maya…"

-xXx-

They had never done these things when they were together. There had never been this rawness, this physical connection, because there was such a tight mental bond. Miyavi had never minded that fact, because he was better fit with someone who wanted those kinds of relationships-- there wasn't another person in the whole entire world that understood him more completely that Mayatan.

There hadn't really been time for much else, anyway.

Now, though, there is only silence as Maya removes his own shirt, only want in his eyes from above.

Miyavi moans and lays it on thick, feeling guilty the entire time.

"I missed seeing you like this, Ki-Ah…"

Whispers in Maya's dark apartment.

Miyavi realizes he doesn't have a way to get home in the morning, if he stays that long.

He can't seem to stomach the smell of Aiji on Maya's pillows.

* * *


	6. quiet time

* * *

2.3 QUIET TIME

* * *

It is 'quiet time' at Miyavi's apartment. 'Quiet time' takes place when all electrical appliances are roughly ripped from their wall sockets and thrown into a pile in the front drive. 'Quiet time' then proceeds when a single match is lit and thrown on the top of that pile, which is to be previously doused with lighter fluid. Then, the thrower of the match and appliances goes inside, puts on slippers, and sits down with a big cup of hot tea and a good, sappy book.

'Quiet time' is not finished until the neighbors become irritated by the smell of burning metal.

* * *


	7. it's a mistake

* * *

3.4 IT'S A MISTAKE

* * *

It is a very rainy Sunday when Miyavi's doorbell rings. He is packing for L.A., and an airline ticket is on his bathroom's vanity.

Miyavi first hears the sudden ringing of the doorbell and responds to it by banging his head on a clothing rack in his closet, then trips over very gaudy boots on his way out of said closet. He nurses the back of his head with a hand, and because he has his head down he doesn't notice the entrance wall of his bedroom as his forehead makes contact with it.

"Damn! I'm coming, one second!"

Miyavi opens his eyes and winces lightly, proceeding to make his way over various shirts and pants and accessories that have been discarded on the floor. His foot moves to push the half-full suitcase underneath his queen-sized bed. He stomps down the stairs in his loose, paint-spattered jeans and white racer-back, thoroughly annoyed that someone would be bothering him this late at night.

One can say that it isn't exactly for shits and giggles that Miyavi's mood worsens when he sees what's on the other side of his front door. But it does.

Irritably enough, Miyavi was already having a lousy time trying to escape from Universal through this L.A. trip before Maya decided to join the party.

Miyavi is- Ki-ah is- quick to catch is grin. He had almost forgotten those names, his and Maya's.

So much for almost.

As mentioned earlier it is a very rainy Sunday. Maya's hair is half wet from the run from his car to the door, ends dripping around his neck and clinging to his jawbones. His shirt clings tauntingly around a lean abdomen, soft grey color darkened. Eyeliner is smeared around familiar brown eyes, and Miyavi can't tell if it's rain or tears that have made it that way.

Miyavi adjusts his hand, bringing it around to rest of the door's width. He leans against the obtrusive doorframe, staring with slight sour expectancy as he blocks the way in.

"Could I talk with you Ki- Miyavi?"

The name sounds strange coming from his lips. So Maya is out of his element. Ha. Ha.

"Why?" What do I owe you?

The rhythm of the rain is background noise when Maya's gentle voice speaks.

"I want to apologize." The back of his hand touches his nose. "To you- I want to apologize to you before it's too late."

Miyavi doesn't know if it's because he's too irritated or too sympathetic or too tired or too amazed that Maya is apologizing for something, but he steps aside and allows his ex-boyfriend in.

It's probably because of the tears.

Sheets are scattered across his bedroom. Clothes have found their place again, miraculously after the past year, crumpled on the floor. Towels are found among them, and the bathroom shower can be heard distantly, steam creeping out from underneath the door frame.

Miyavi sits on the edge of his bed. It's a mistake. The smell of sex lingers underneath his nose.

It's a mistake.

* * *


	8. four months

* * *

3.9 FOUR MONTHS

* * *

L.A. provides no distractions for Miyavi's mind. American girls stare strangely at his clothing, his hair, his disposition. American men consider him an eyesore. He can't find a decent pink sweater in his size.

Still, the time difference and bustle of L.A. malls make the illusion of time well spent, of a mind's vacation away from Japan and Universal and mistakes. Miyavi can't tell the difference from this and a real vacation. Either that or he doesn't want to tell the difference.

Even though many do consider him an eyesore, no one knows who Miyavi is. And at the end of the day he comes back to the same American hotel room to find it empty. There is no one to talk to, and Miyavi isn't exactly proficient enough in English to bother.

Even though he doesn't want to, Miyavi spends four months of nights in that empty, American hotel room. And after those four months he comes back unchanged. New hair color, new diet, but still unchanged.

He wants Maya back.

* * *


	9. hair dye and phone lines

* * *

4.0 HAIR DYE AND PHONE LINES

* * *

Miyavi walks into the kitchen before anywhere else when he gets home. His ears ring from the plane and gravity and thoughts of a wing tearing off and a fiery death in a vast ocean alone. His bags, placed heavily by the door when he entered, stare back at him now, so he turns his back to pick up a glass and fill it with water from the tap.

All his plants are dead. The cabinets are covered with dust. The house smells empty. The house is empty. It has been four months.

There are forty-eight messages on Miyavi's answering machine. He presses the play button, trying to distract himself from melancholy, and sits down at the counter. He twirls the glass of water in front of him like he did so long ago at that diner, after he and Maya had broken up.

Miyavi doesn't hear the first message play. He's too consumed to, too frozen to go back and press a button to replay it. The second one plays and this time he pays attention, looking down to the surface of the water in his glass.

"Hey! It's Heiko; just wanted to catch you before you left…"

Miyavi can see a pair of sad brown eyes in his glass. Sad eyes that haven't changed in four months.

"There's this rave, I thought you might want to come for old time's sake, but since you're already gone I don't suppose you'll be around to come…"

Above that are bangs, now silver and quite possibly the ugliest colour Miyavi has ever seen.

Another message, another friend. Miyavi just stares at his reflection, numb enough to just sit there. His breaths are shallow, his thoughts are shallow. His eyes in their sockets are shallow.

It's not until the eighteenth message that they finally change.

"…Ki-Ah, I-I stopped by today…"

During the pause, Miyavi feels someone reach in his chest and rip out his heart.

"The other night was… a mistake. I'm sorry, even though I know that's what I had wanted to say as soon as I walked through your door…"

Tears fall into Miyavi's glass after rolling down his cheeks, disturbing the mirror-like surface.

"I never should have acted the way I did- We never should've…" There is a cracking sound that echoes around Miyavi's painfully empty house. "I know it doesn't make a difference, so why am I saying it, right?" There's a sad laugh, but this one comes off the machine. "I'm just… sorry, Ki-Ah."

Beep.

There isn't time to recover. The next one has Maya's voice too.

"You aren't picking up your phone. It's alright. You don't have to. You have every right to be mad."

Beep.

More sobs, more tears. Miyavi covers his mouth with his hand, biting his palm to try to stop.

"Do you want me to explain myself? That's probably it. A lot happens in a year, right? By the way, your cell phone says that you're out of service area. Just to tell you, I'd be really sad if you moved, Ki-ah. You hear me?" The machine-voice has the same soft tone that Miyavi used to be lulled to sleep by. "I'd miss you."

Beep.

The next twenty-six messages are from Maya. They explain Maya's relationship with Aiji, Maya's relationship with a man named Ki-ah, a man who used to be Ki-ah and now goes by Miyavi, and finally the rise and fall of his and Aiji's relationship.

Miyavi has no tears by the last message. His heart is mangled with restraining arteries and veins, barbed wire and metal rods. It lies on the floor, still faintly heard above dry sobs. Hoarse sobs. He still hears Maya's voice, though, as if it's some impossible to ignore sound. It's the forty-ninth message.

"Aiji and I are… done. I don't know why I'm telling you this, I don't know…" I don't know I don't know I don't know. Miyavi doesn't know either – the feeling takes precedence when he hears how slashed and wet Maya's voice is. It breaks the last pieces of him.

He runs upstairs to his bathroom, hurriedly taking out a box of brown hair dye from a cupboard, opening it with shaking hands, like an addict that's given up trying to stop themselves. His desperateness roots from thoughts, though- thoughts he needs to stop thinking about. Stop stopstop stopstop.

Surprisingly, his hands are steady enough to apply the dye, head still enough to wait for twenty-five minutes before using a stationary heart to wash out the offending material on his locks.

Forty-eight old messages and one new message are on the phone machine as Miyavi runs the water for a bath upstairs. He doesn't want to remember what it was like to see his eyes in the mirror– to see himself, after all of this. Every part of him was somehow attached to Maya; no matter what it made him miserable to be without the man. But Miyavi's so afraid of that sick mistake feeling his stomach feels that there's no way he's going back.

The water is cold as it slips over Miyavi's head and its better that way.

Lack of oxygen from temperature shock makes Miyavi forget he had given Maya a spare key.

* * *


	10. if i said i love you

* * *

4.1 IF I SAID "I LOVE YOU"

* * *

A knock resounds in the still-water bathroom like a gong. Miyavi doesn't have to bring his submerged head out from the water to know who it is, but the knock/gong is so sudden that his head automatically snaps over.

At least Maya has the decency to knock first.

"Come in." Miyavi's own voice astounds him. He's in water, naked, a bed only meters away. How can one person be so stupid as to make the same mistake over and over?

Hesitant boots are first to step inside the door's threshold. Black jeans follow, fitted dress shirt, black, and gold necklaces that catch in the bathroom's dim light; and finally, the face of Maya. A face Miyavi's wanted to see for so long.

"Konbanwa, I just wanted to…" Maya pauses, turning away as he realizes where Miyavi is. Miyavi tries to ignore every bit of hurt in the voice he knew to be happy. "Sumimasen, I didn't know you were in the-"

"Maya, shut up and come here." It's uncanny how similar their voices are, especially as Maya starts to protest.

"No, I'll come back later; Gomen, Miyavi, I-"

No bubbles obscure the view from the top of the water, and Miyavi knows that Maya knows this. He gets up from his reclined position and uses long arms to his advantage, pulling Maya into a crouched position in front of him. Maya looks nice with wet eyelashes.

"Hi," Miyavi says in English after staring, not having anything else intelligent to say. He tries a grin at Maya's bewilderment, still holding onto the other's upper arms gently. He waits for a response while Maya has reverted to closing his large brown eyes.

"Oh, grow up. It's not like you haven't seen me naked before."

Maya shakes his head, sniffing and smiling soggily. And though he does open his eyes, he looks nowhere but into Miyavi's. Indecision and sorrow are clear- two looks that are not good on Miyavi's former guitarist.

"I just wanted to... to talk to you, see that you got home safely." There's a glint of something else, embarrassment, or maybe knowing. "I was worried that you didn't return my calls-" Maya's eyes look down to the floor, where his feet would normally be, as Miyavi releases his arms. "Why didn't you tell me you were going away for so long, the night we…?" It trails off as a horrendous, nightmare-laden question/memory. Maya's eyes connect with Miyavi's, hand rubbing his arm where the grip had been.

Miyavi doesn't answer. He picks a spot on the porcelain bath and stares at it for quite some time. It soon becomes blurry, because Miyavi starts to lose focus again.

Maya's hand is warm on his bare shoulder, words of apology soft in his ears.

"I'm sorry, Miyavi, I didn't mean to-"

Miyavi shrugs the hand off his shoulder, numbly letting the phrase, "Ii ja nai betsu ni" resound through the room's clean tiles. There's a white silence afterwards.

"Ki-Ah… I missed you."

The name sends shivers up Miyavi's spine. The last time he heard it, the last time before L.A. …

"Maya, if I had a yen for every time I've heard that come from your mouth…"

"Then you'd have three shitty pieces of yen, Ki-ah, because I didn't mean it before. I mean it now, though, and I'm truly, truly sorry."

It doesn't make sense. The water is too cold for anything to make sense. Miyavi unbuttons Maya's shirt slowly, removing necklaces along with it. They shine against the light, like the streaks of green and pink throughout Maya's dirty blond hair.

"How so? Sorry that you really miss me now, sorry you missed me in the first place? Sorry you're telling the truth?" The shirt slides like silk off of Maya's shoulders, piling like it on the floor. "Sorry that you're lying, if you are?" Miyavi works on the belt buckle as he waits for a reply, not daring to touch Maya's smooth skin.

"No, Ki-Ah, sorry that I haven't told you this before…" Maya brings a hand down from his belt buckle to help tug the jeans off. "I want to stop trying to get over you." Boots and socks are kicked off in the process, and underwear soon follows.

The tears in Maya's voice have faded; his eyes dry. Big and dry and beautiful.

Miyavi guides Maya into the bath above him, eyes making it clear he expects nothing but company. Maya lies down next to Miyavi, the fit easy in the larger-than-standard tub. He complains about the temperature at first, but Miyavi quiets this by crawling closer to him, throwing his arm over a tanner-than-four-months-ago chest. His skin feels nice.

"So you're giving up on giving up on me?" Miyavi's skin and tattoos stand out underneath the water. He kisses Maya's neck, absently admiring them in their warped states. The ones on his finger especially. "And I don't have any say in this?"

Maya laughs at this- it boarders nervousness. "This water is fucking cold, Ki-Ah." It's an excuse to pull him closer, a slip of his lips against the soloist's shoulder and collarbone. "Is this how you always take a bath?"

So, it's a resounding no. Miyavi can't stop it before a couple tears have leaked through his closed eyes. He promised himself this wouldn't happen, but here he is with Maya in a tub, naked, together, with so much skin to share between them, so many feeling that could have been, under different circumstances. Maya had belonged to him first, but Universal had made sure to ruin that along with the rest of his personal life. Now, Maya was just coming to Miyavi because things are over with Aiji and his hurts can't heal by themselves. Miyavi doesn't like being second-best so much. He can only imagine how Maya felt when Universal came before him.

"Ki-Ah, please don't cry… I haven't seen you smile in two years, koibito."

All the pain and sadness from Miyavi's arrival home came back miraculously as Maya held him there, hugging him close like how Miyavi remembered. It didn't make a difference that they were close; perhaps it had sparked the tears that are salinating the bathwater, but perhaps Miyavi's sanity had just run away with him again. He cries for a long time into Maya's chest. If possible, the water is colder by the time he's finished.

Maya's hand has rubbed a rhythm onto his back, shushes repeating in his ears. He laughs and withdraws from a rather worried Maya, wiping his eyes and smiling sheepishly. He notes that they are sitting up now, and wonders when they got that way. He doesn't wonder, though, why Maya has the worried look in his eyes as he wipes away the tears Miyavi missed. Miyavi gently bats the other's hand away, grin wiped from his face.

"Gomen, Maya, it was inappropriate of me to-" He sighs, not wanting to be in the situation, not wanting to say the words so robotic and custom, expected and polite.

"If I said 'I love you', would you turn the hot water on?"

"Ki-Ah…"

"Fine, then."

Miyavi reaches over Maya and pulls the drain up, letting cold water spiral down. It's not a mistake for Maya – Maya provoked the whole damn thing. It's not supposed to be like this; they're together again. They're not supposed to be together again.

Maya is still worried as Miyavi moves to turn on the hot water faucet and plug up the drain again. Steam rises from the bottom of the bath, and Miyavi's frigid toes defrost as gushing water echoes around the room.

He sighs and leans back only to be caught against Maya's chest, in his arms. He laughs as his neck is tickled with bites. Yes, he is out of his right mind.

"I forget what it was like when we were together, Maya."

Maya smiles sadly; Miyavi can feel it against his spine. "No you haven't baka; that's why you're sad, still."

Leaning his head against Maya's collarbone, Miyavi feels the unnoticed tears run down his cheeks. Unnoticed by himself, at least- he thinks Maya should be a psychologist because his ability for reading minds would come in handy.

The water is up to their waists now, as Maya giggles and kisses his cheek from behind.

"Come on," he whispers. "Be happy with me tonight, just tonight." His cheek is wet as it lies against Miyavi's shoulder. "Just tonight, koibito…"

It is Miyavi who feels guilty now. He feels like he owes Maya at least this. So, he turns around in Maya's arms, water sloshing over his legs nonchalantly, and stares him straight in the eye with a big, Miyavi smile. He leans forwards and kisses him cutely, the Maya who has wet streaks down his face despite a grin.

"I don't feel like taking a bath so much anymore, Maya." He's still grinning, Miyavi is. The statement is kind of a waste of water, judging that the liquid is now making ripples up and down Maya's smooth chest. It follows the dip of his sternum, and Miyavi is enticed enough to lean beneath, tipping his nose with water, to kiss the skin there. He's gentle, possessive, and it's stopped Maya's tears by the time he's come up.

"What do you say to drying off and getting into bed?" Maya looks hesitant, so Miyavi brings up his wrist and kisses that. It smells like chlorine. "I had a long flight- I'm tired."

Maya nods in agreement and Miyavi climbs out of the tub so he can help his former guitarist out, but a hand halts his progress.

"Ki-ah, wait." Maya's voice is gentle, like the sun in the morning. His lips match, taking Miyavi by surprise. So much so that he slips, coming back down.

It's screwy how much Ki-ah has forgotten of Maya's mouth, screwy how fast he learns again.

He didn't know he had been moving his hips against Maya's.

* * *


	11. the edge of reason

* * *

4.2 THE EDGE OF REASON

* * *

They hold hands on the way to Ki-Ah's bed, walking slowly. Thoughts skitter in Ki-Ah's mind like stones across a lake, dragonfly wings against skin, a butterfly to flowers. He has trouble controlling his breath and he lowers Maya's body to the sheets, buries his nose in a warm neck and starts nipping, sucking, biting, crawling closer and closer to the taut, blond man. Holding thin wrists to the mattress, Ki-Ah slowly raises his eyes, staring down at Maya. He opens his mouth as If to say something, but decides against it. Instead, he lowers his lips, fox-like profile dark against the room, eyes meeting the ones below him, and kisses Maya softly, as if to make him melt.

And it works.

He enters the blond slightly, hips balanced with one hand and cock massaged by the other. It is harsh now, their lips like hanabi against the night sky.

Ki-Ah pushes in further, fingers toying with the hard cock and soft balls in their possession. Maya moans animalistically between kisses, into Ki-Ah's mouth, pleading and crying to prettily that Ki-Ah's head spins. He had prepared the man with the lubricated, skilled fingers of a guitarist and is now fully ready to drive the hit home.

He sinks in all the way to the hilt, Maya's face expressing that it's almost too much to take in. Ki-Ah shushes him with pet names, drawing out slowly, teasingly, and then sliding back in with the same pace. It makes him unbelievably hard, torturing Maya to the edge of reason.

"Shhh, koibito, you can take it…" Ki-Ah's whisper is velvet next to the shell of Maya's ear, skin against skin, Ki-Ah's dick filling him—clearly driving him insane. Maya scratches at the sheets, across Ki-Ah's arms, chest—begs for it as Ki-Ah keeps on him with the same agonizing pace. In and out so many times that he wonders how he could possibly have enough stamina when it's visibly clear it's almost too much for Maya. And Maya screams for it, writhes under Ki-Ah's skinny torso.

"Please, Ki-Ah, I can't—I can't take it… Please! God, I can't take it!"

Marked skin and unmarked skin all blur together. Maya really does look beautiful this way, in a sexual agony so deep that Ki-Ah is having trouble holding the slow strokes so steady. He grins as he brushes up so slightly against Maya's pleasure spot, sending the man into another fit of screams and moans and pleads. Pre-cum lubricates Ki-Ah's hand now, with which he works the cock slowly, grasping the balls and pressing so tenderly underneath with the slightest fingertip.

Trickles of blood come down his arm from Maya's short fingernails, but he doesn't care—it's just another mark from a man he was going to make sure would not forget this night.

"Maya, koibito, listen to me…" He begins to pump a little harder, thrust with more vigor. "I want you to think about this night every time you sleep with someone," he demands with a growl, gruff and sexy, a sound that's never come from him before. He stares at Maya as the blond cries, scrabbling for something to hold onto in his mounting climax.

"I want you to scream my name with every man or woman who gives you any pleasure, compare this to what they give you, and know it'll never be better than what you're having now."

Little whimpers escape Maya's lips—he's breaking, and Ki-Ah knows this is the longest Maya's ever lasted.

"Remember this, Mayatan. Remember how well I can give it to you, how good it makes you feel." He licks the shell of Maya's ear, kissing his cheek before he sheaths himself to the hilt, ramming into Maya's prostate. One more miniscule movement would send both of them over the edge.

Ki-Ah bends down, taking Maya's earlobe between his to suck gently on it. He bides his time as Maya grips tighter to him, bucking and writhing in every direction related to ending this dizzying climb to pleasure.

"Because you'll never have it better with anyone beside me, koibito."

He twists his hips lusciously; Maya's breath coming hard and fast in his ear as Maya's coming hard and fast over his stomach. He moves ever so slightly, still riding out the orgasm, still pumping Maya's cock, to look the man in his eyes, relief painted so clearly across the brown tones. Not that it is over, but that he has finally reached release.

Maya moans so loud, back arching prettily, ribs against Ki-Ah like the gills on a fish. His chest heaves and Ki-Ah feels it, holding tight as he's overwhelmed by pleasure, moaning at the closeness of Maya around him like a hot glove.

After he unsheathes himself, he lets go of all limbs supporting him, and falls next to Maya on the sheets.

Maya's moans eventually stop as the blonde's voice becomes raw. At this he turns to Ki-Ah, tucking his face into the soloist's slick neck. They pant in unison and Maya's hands shake, body shakes as he places his lips to Ki-Ah's jugular vein, feeling the pulse beneath.

They kiss, long and feral, before Miyavi withdraws only to dip a finger into the cum on his stomach. He makes eye contact with Maya before slipping the digit between pink lips, sucking ever so gently.

Maya moans lowly at the sight, eyes wanting. "Ki-Ah, how do you do this to me…?"

Miyavi doesn't listen, letting the finger fall from his lips before he puts it to Maya's, glossy with saliva.

"Open," he purrs, and Maya follows instructions. Pink lips part to allow the finger inside. Tongue meets it, slippery and broad, slight suction adding to the mixture. Miyavi draws closer to the blond as those cheeks hallow; those big, brown, beautiful eyes close. Fingers come to Miyavi's wrist, holding him there.

Miyavi nuzzles into Maya's neck, biting his ear, his collarbone, everywhere between. He licks and tastes, relearning with every ounce of affection he pours into the gestures.

"Mhmm, stop, baby—I want to kiss you," he whispers, and his finger comes out with an audible 'pop'.

Miyavi twines his fingers into Maya's hair, sucking on his bottom lip before slipping tongue between. Maya straddles him, leaning so they meet against the sheets. A slow dance connecting their mouths; everything elegant and graceful in the world together couldn't have matched their kiss.

"I love you, Ki-Ah."

Miyavi brings their lips together again, sliding his hands over the structure of Maya's torso.

"Shhh, koibito, I know…"

They sink down into the sheets, piling them on. Maya curls, child-like into Miyavi's chest, their legs tangling together.

"You know, Ki-Ah?" Maya yawns, hand coming to Miyavi's chest.

"Yeah, I know." They're so close, not even the width of a strand of hair separates them. Like moulds of one another, they lay there. "Because I love you, too."

And drift into sleep.

* * *


	12. onebigfuckingmistake

* * *

4.3 ONEBIGFUCKINGMISTAKE

* * *

It's another morning after another mistake. Onebigfuckingmistake.

"Ki-Ah…"

Miyavi wishes that Maya would stop saying his name like that. He doesn't like it, lying sideways on the bed, snuggled deep into his sheets as Maya sits by him, staring at him, remorse in those big, brown eyes.

"Ki-Ah…"

Miyavi squeezes his eyes closed tighter, and he feels his bangs move in his eyelashes. He feels Maya's body sitting next to his, perpendicular. It moves with breaths, deep and calm. Decision.

"Ki-Ah, I don't love you."

It sounds like every millisecond it took to say that phrase was taken stubbornly, in refusal. Miyavi resists smiling as he throws his arm up and around Maya's neck, pulling the man under the covers with him.

"Well, that's too bad, because I love you."

He kisses Maya's nose tip, just because he likes to. "It's selfish love, Maya. Love me because I love you."

Maya is dressed already. His belts are cold against Miyavi's stomach, metallic and harsh in their existence. They feel… separating. Maya's eyes on his feel separating.

"You should make that into a song, koibito."

"I already have."

And now those eyes are avoiding Miyavi's, not making contact with what used to be comfortable. Miyavi pecks a smooth cheek, then buries into a warm neck.

"And why don't you love me, Maya?"

There is a sigh, and snow rustles against the roof. Maya is reluctant to answer.

"Koibito, I just… you know that's a lie. Alright?"

Miyavi laughs, nibbling on Maya's neck. "Then why'd you say it, baka?"

"Because my head hurts and I want you to fuck me into the mattress again."

Miyavi laughs. "I'm not sure if I can help you with that first one, Maya-kun." He pauses. "And that doesn't really make sense."

Maya flips onto his back, elbows tenting the sheet as he pushes the heels of his palms into his eyes. "Ah, I know. I don't feel like I'm sensible right now." The heels rub, rub, rub away.

"…like you take up too much space?"

Maya's bleary eyes resurface at Miyavi's invisible tone. He nods, softly. Miyavi isn't comforted.

"Yeah. That's how I've felt since August."

Maya's eyes are knowing, apologetic, somehow sunk back against his face but black and big at once. Miyavi doesn't mean to make him feel responsible.

"I'm sorry-"

"Maya, don't. It's not your fault."

And there was no more to be said about that.

* * *


	13. aiSHITeru

* * *

4.4 aiSHITeru

* * *

Love. L.O.V.E. What a useless word. What a repetitive, meaningless emotion. It's impulsive and carries no weight when used. Like when someone says they are fine; you know it isn't true.

Maya had to leave. His leaving was sad and regretful; the way the former guitarist had announced it one would've thought he was making his way to a funeral. He knew he was leaving Miyavi down, but he did it anyway.

That's why Miyavi thought love was a useless thing to feel anymore.

"Because everything leaves in the end, right?"

A grin. Maya was back in his regular mood, back in his own car, his own apartment and own clothes.

So Miyavi kicked the drywall. His foot went through.

"No, Ki-Ah. Just people."

* * *


	14. nineteen year old games

* * *

4.9 NINETEEN-YEAR-OLD GAMES

* * *

"Chuu-kun, can't the mall wait? I just really need to talk to someone right now."

The nineteen year old stops collecting his clothes with a smile in the paper-lantern-lighted room.

"Of course, Miya-sama…"

He slips back underneath the blanket, light-blue hair spreading against a white pillow face. His lithe body is comforting, attracting as it stretches next to Miyavi's.

"You seemed sad but I didn't want to pry," Chuu murmurs, drawing a line from Miyavi's eye to his jaw, across his cheek with his index finger. It imitates a tear. Miyavi doesn't blame him. "Daijoubu?"

Miyavi doesn't normally have Chuu-kun stay after their games, partly because Chuu is always busy. Has this place to visit, these people to hang out with… But tonight, the nineteen year old's translucent green eyes imploring him to speak--Miyavi is glad that he asked.

"No, I'm not okay, Chuu…"

They talk, until the soft light of the paper lanterns turns into the soft light of the sun. It shines through sheer draperies, lighting Chuu's hair into cotton candy blue. Miyavi's kissed a couple times, hugged a couple times. Mostly it's just them, talking and talking and talking. Purging everything while horizontal on the bed. Miyavi can't seem to feel anything but admiration to this other person, now seeing Chuu as not a simple nineteen-year-old, but someone extremely mature and wise. Outward appearances only hide the inside, distinguish one person from the next. Chuu wears his inside on the outside when he's speaking, hugging, kissing, fucking. Miyavi has to end with the first step before he realizes this.

"I love him, Chuu."

The words make the teen put on a peculiar face, not of jealousy or rage or disappointment, but rather acceptance of how things are. It's just the way they are.

"If you love him, why are you throwing it away like this?"

* * *


	15. look at me and say that

* * *

5.1 LOOK AT ME AND SAY THAT

* * *

"I loved Aiji, Ki-Ah."

Miyavi sits on his paisley sofa, staring out his sunny apartment window. Maya is adjacent to him, a heavy book in his hands. He is not affected; used to being second-best.

"Though, I love you."

Miyavi thinks back to when he was seventeen, eight long years ago. One could say that he's had others with which he's experienced things close to love, but no one came close to his feelings for Mayatan. He only ever loved the guitarist, ever since the first time he's seen him.

"Ki-Ah…"

There is a momentary shadow in the ethereal light of his window.

"All I have ever known is you, Ki-Ah."

Miyavi's blink last for longer than a normal blink. His eyes, so deep, are now shallow.

"All I have ever needed is you, Ki-Ah."

Indifference is in every angle, the curve of his back and the length of his thighs. Maya's arms are frail around him, voice weak in his ear.

"Who is he?"

Books are stacked around them in the library, meanings lost between pages in the volumes.

"His name is Chuu, Maya."

The former guitarist settles a cold cheek into Miyavi's shoulder.

"Do you love him?"

Wind blows up against the window.

"In a way, yes."

Mayatan holds Miyavi tighter.

"I won't let him win, Ki-Ah."

Miyavi almost smiles. Almost.

"It's not a game, Mayatan."

He moves from Maya's arms and stands underneath the library's doorframe, one hand lingering on the vertical side. It's apparent he's lost some weight as his silhouette illuminates.

"Don't you know how much you mean to me, baka?"

Miyavi picks at a splinter in the wood frame. It cuts his finger, a surface scratch. No blood rises to the wound.

"No, I don't," he lies. "Not after what you did to me with Aiji."

A raising fury enters the room. Miyavi feels it attach to Mayatan, feels it explode as he stands.

"What was I supposed to do, Ki-Ah?! You were married to Universal! You put them before me, before yourself, before your obligations! You let them warp your identity every three months and after a while I didn't even know who you were. You changed into Miyavi, and I couldn't see Ki-Ah anymore!"

Miyavi's head hangs. He stares at the floor, panel lines blurring into the next.

"I couldn't hold on to something that couldn't keep itself together! And Aiji was there, older, stable… I could actually depend on him!"

Miyavi shakes his head slowly.

"Then why did you come back?"

There is silence. Maya's voice is filled with tears when he speaks.

"He said that I wasn't committed to him. He said he could tell there was someone else." Maya sighs deeply, heavily. "He thought I was cheating on him, Ki-Ah. And I told him I was."

"You're and idiot, then. Saying you threw away what you had with him, lying to him, just because you couldn't stop thinking about me?" He takes a breath, shaking his head, hanging it as low as his voice is when it collides inside his chest-drum. "I'm not coming back, Maya. I'm done with whatever this is. _We're_ done."

Maya falls back to his seat. "Didn't you just hear me? I love you, Ki-Ah! Isn't that what you want?"

Miyavi's tears collect at his jaw line. He doesn't mean what he says. It's lies, all lies coming from the soloist's mouth.

"I want Chuu. He's what I want, Maya."

Maya's hands grasp his upper arms. His eyes are wet, determined, brown.

"Look at me and say that."

Miyavi looks into Maya's eyes for a moment, then gently kisses his forehead. He walks away, lets go.

He walks away without a word.

* * *


	16. happy birthday, koibito

* * *

5.9 HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KOIBITO

* * *

The summer spent with Chuu is close to perfect. Miyavi is happy with the nineteen-year-old, and begins to learn how to love him, his light blue hair and unnatural eyes, striking features and young outlook on life. It's refreshing, and eventually Chuu moves in with Miyavi. They sleep together, wake together, go out together, and eat together. And Universal doesn't interfere with Miyavi's plans to join a band. He separates the ropes from the label and regains a majority of his freedom.

He's alive for once in a long while.

At least it feels as if he is.

"Happy birthday, koibito!"

Miyavi smiles at the pink-frosted cake, off-setting his boyfriend's blue hair.

"Pink frosting," he says. "Thank you, Chuu-kun."

He kisses him sweetly before staring at the candle-covered surface. He can't help but frown. Twenty-six candles. No.

"What's wrong? Don't you like pink frosting?"

Miyavi shakes his head. "No, no. It's perfect."

So he blows out the candle's flames. One year closer until his own will be blown out. One year.

It makes him feel so alone with Chuu in his arms that night.

"Happy birthday, koibito."

Miyavi jumps under the sheet. Dirty blond hair with pink and green streaks.

"What is it?" Chuu's small voice comes from the darkness.

"N-Nothing. Go back to sleep, I was just dreaming."

"Oh…"

Miyavi lays there in a frozen panic until he is sure the man next to him has fallen back to sleep. He slips from under the sheets, pulls on a pair of jeans, and makes sure to lock the apartment door behind him.

-xXx-

The night air is cold, crisp; autumn on his tongue as he tastes it. The city is awake, and he blends in with crowds down every street.

His feet take him to a familiar setting; A tree in the park away from the path, alone in solitude. Miyavi trudges through the midnight hour to sit by its base with a sigh.

"Hey, Maya."

The guitarist leans his head back against the trunk, taking a long drag on his cigarette.

"Hey, Birthday Boy."

Miyavi takes out his fake cigarette, sucking thoughtfully on it.

"Technically that was yesterday."

Maya blows out smoke in a swirling line that carries up the leaf canopy above them. Miyavi can only see the man's face, silhouetted by the moon.

"Technically I don't care."

He stubs out his cig and reaches for another one. The lighter makes a satisfying click and Miyavi's substitute is no longer satisfying.

"Have one of those for me?"

Maya takes the one from between his lips, holding it out for Miyavi to take.

"It's my last one. We can share it."

Gratefully, Miyavi holds it between his slim tattooed fingers and takes a drag.

"God, that's good."

He hands it back and runs his palms down his thighs, staring up at what sky could be seen through leaves. Navy blue. Pale outlines of clouds.

"Why are you here, Ki-Ah?"

Miyavi smiles. "I could ask you the same thing."

Maya flicks the lighter coolly.

"But you didn't. So answer the question."

"God, calm down." He breathes in, the exhale like a sigh. "I couldn't sleep."

Maya nods once. "Me neither."

They sit like that for a while, just looking at the sky. Miyavi doesn't realize it, but Maya is actually staring straight at him.

"How's Chuu?" His voice is soft. Miyavi still looks at the sky.

"Good. He's moved in with me."

Maya takes a drag, still turned, still staring.

"What about you?"

He blinks, contemplating the question.

"Well, there are a couple girls and guys. I'm not sure though."

Miyavi nods, holds his hand out for the smoke. Maya puts it between two fingers carefully.

"And why aren't you sure?"

He shrugs, finally giving up and leaning the back of his head up against the tree trunk.

"I don't like any of them."

Miyavi is staring at him when he looks back.

Breeze passes through the trees.

"It's good to see you, Maya."

He receives a small kiss, fingers against his jaw, through his now-white hair, at the base of his neck.

"Yeah… you too, Ki-Ah."

Miyavi smiles and keeps their faces close, but it is Maya who takes the next kiss.

This one is slow, a thorough greeting experienced between only people who carried Miyavi and Maya's past. It is such a natural reaction that Miyavi doesn't feel as if he's cheating. He feels like he's breathing, truly, for the first time in a while. And when he pulls away it's like coming up from under a crushing ocean wave. He wants to cry with the joy of it, but Maya is staring at him.

So he kisses him again.

And again.

And again.

* * *


	17. underneath the stars

* * *

6.0 UNDERNEATH THE STARS

* * *

They spread out on the grassy bank by that deserted tree, slowly stripping each other of clothing. The grass is cool and dewy underneath the moon, underneath Miyavi's back as Maya crawls over him. Eyes are translucent as they close, kissing Miyavi's closed as well.

He lays there with Maya's lips on his body, fingers in white hair, and feels the air twirl about.

"How long has it been, baby?"

Maya's answer comes muffled, somewhere around his navel.

"Six months. Six long months…"

Fingers slip around to his back, follow his spine down to hips, to pants, to a zipper. When his erection springs free it is met by warm, wet lips. Maya kisses the contours, the underside, all the way to the tip. He swirls his tongue around it with lusty, lidded eyes, before taking the whole head into his mouth.

Miyavi's breath hitches, groaning at Maya's careful ministrations. The warm mouth sucks and licks, nipping along edges and sides, knowing exactly what spot causes what sound from Miyavi's throat.

And, just as Miyavi is hard, Maya withdraws with a last wet kiss to the tip, moving back up to grin at Miyavi's bewildered look, red cheeks.

"I screamed your name with him, koibito…"

Maya's eyes are pictures of conspiracy, making Miyavi grab him, hug him to his chest, flipping their positions with a laugh rolling off his lips. They kiss, pure and happy and blissful.

Miyavi doesn't know why it doesn't matter to him at the moment, but all things in sin are brushed from his mind. He thinks of nothing but Maya as the white-blonde's lips take up his, as he moves to straddle him, as he enters him to moans and scratches. He thinks of nothing but Maya; brown eyes, white hair, every time they've been together and every time they've been apart.

He is gentle this time, loving and gracious with his movements and kisses, nips and licks. He rocks Maya to climax, waiting until the other has found release to succumb to tight hotness. He cradles Maya with the moans, and they lay in the grass for quite some time before moving to gather clothes. Their reason of leaving comes as fast as the sun chasing the moon below the opposite horizons—Miyavi finds himself under Maya's detergent-scented flannel sheets.

They stare.

No sin.

* * *


	18. between the lines

* * *

6.1 BETWEEN THE LINES

* * *

They look at each other from across the pillows, the sun coming up from behind Maya's back, behind panes of window-glass. They don't speak, don't touch, don't move – just stare at each other to make up for the last six months of not doing exactly what they just did.

It is Miyavi who finally reaches out, grasping Maya's hand.

"I should go."

The man closes his eyes and tries very hard to hide the hurt in his voice. Miyavi notices this.

"Then go, Ki-Ah."

They repeat the same scene (Miyavi kisses Maya's lips gently as he stands and walks out). Everything plays back, rewinds and plays back (The sky is a deep pink as he walks up the hill to his apartment). There is no stopping the inevitable, because this will always be between Maya and himself (He hopes that Chuu is not awake, up, alone – he can't bear to think of the image). Miyavi can't ever see it stopping (He puts his keys on the counter lightly). The relationship will always be in the back of his mind (He sighs). It won't ever stop.

(He looks at Chuu from across the pillows before falling asleep).

* * *


	19. overture to an end

* * *

6.2 OVERTURE TO AN END

* * *

"Wake up, Sleeping Beauty! It's almost noon…"

Miyavi starts from his sleep, startled into sitting up. He meets Chuu's sweet, smiling face, who pecks him on the cheek. He's holding a small metal bowl and a wooden cooking spoon under his arm and in his hand.

"Morning, love."

With wide eyes, Miyavi stares.

"Ye-yeah, morning…"

Chuu grins and walks out of the bedroom. Miyavi hears pots and pans and the sound of food cooking through cotton-ball-ears.

"You sleep good, Miya-kun?"

Miyavi nods without noticing Chuu can't see him. He looks around his room and it only appears vaguely familiar; As if he couldn't remember when things got this way.

Maya…

"Miya?"

Had it been a dream? He checks the alarm on his bedside table. 11:49 a.m. The heels of his palm rub out his eyes. Had it been a dream…?

"Love?"

The blue-haired man is standing at the foot of his bed, the wooden spoon in hand and metal bowl under his arm. Pancakes. His face is quizzical.

"Are you…okay?

Slowly, Miyavi nods. He hates pancakes. "Ye-Yeah."

"Okay, then…"

When Chuu's back is turned, Miyavi presses cold knuckles to his warm forehead. He throws the sheets from his legs to get up and put on jeans only to realize that they already cover his legs. Quickly, he makes his unsteady path to the door, pausing only to pick up his keys.

"I'm gonna go get some eggs, be right back."

Chuu holds up and egg in his hand as the door swings behind Miyavi's back.

"We… have some…"

* * *


	20. no matter what

* * *

6.3 NO MATTER WHAT

* * *

He pressed the buzzer five times in quick succession. No answer for three long seconds. He repeats the five buzzes.

"Hai?"

A familiar voice.

"Maya? Could we talk?"

There is a pause, uncertainty.

"You do mean talk, right?"

Miyavi nods. "Yeah."

Another three seconds. Miyavi holds back from pressing the buzzer.

"Why not."

And feet are at the bottom of the stairwell in thirty seconds.

Miyavi follows jean-covered legs up to a brown belt, a faded-to-almost-white yellow dress shirt. He smells like nicotine, and red fingertips tell Miyavi the man had been thinking.

A too-short, too-awkward kiss is their greeting.

"Where should we go?"

Maya pulls out another cig and lights it, shoving his free hand deep into his pocket. "I don't care."

Miyavi can't help but be slightly hurt. "Okay, well…"

A yellow car passes by, all alone, down the narrow street. Maya's voice picks up in the afterthought of the wind's rushing sounds.

"Look, Ki-Ah. I don't understand why you want to try and explain how we are; or maybe you're trying to figure it out, I don't know. But, really – just give up. There is no explaining it. You'll drive yourself crazy trying to."

Miyavi makes a face. "I've got Chuu to explain this to, Maya. What am I supposed to tell my boyfriend? What happens when he asks why? 'Just because'?"

"Ki-Ah." Maya grabs the six-foot rocker by his shoulders. "Look me in the eyes and tell me you love him more than me. Tell me."

Miyavi opens his mouth but no words come out. "I – I… I don't, Maya. I can't."

The dirty blond lets go, knowing in his warm brown eyes. "Okay." He takes a drag. "I don't see what the problem is then. This is how we've always been, why does it have to change just because he's in the picture?"

Biting his lip, Miyavi stares. "What are you talking about? You know how it is! Remember Aiji?"

Maya doesn't look at him for a while, taking an extra long drag of his cigarette.

"You saw how that turned out."

Miyavi shakes his head. "I'm not doing that to Chuu, Maya. He's only been wonderful to me."

Maya snorts but doesn't say a word. Miyavi knows what words are on those lips, and it's only fair.

"I don't know why I came back."

Shaking his head now, Maya frowns. "Yes you do. It's why I came back and why we'll both keep coming back, no matter what." He slides down on the brick wall outside of his apartment building, setting the lighter and carton of cigs next to him. Miyavi follows him down.

"Then why is it, Maya?"

The blond stubs out the thin white drug, and together, in the noon sun with a light breeze, they watch it smother in its own embers.

"Because I will always love you, no matter how far you push me away nor how many times you break my heart. And you'll never stop loving me either. It's just how it always has been and always will be; that's why, Ki-Ah." A wind picks up the ashes and makes them disappear into the sky. "Because I love you and you love me."

Ki-Ah just sits, both of them together in the summer after all their years by each other's sides-- whether it was on a stage or outside an apartment building. They still sit side by side, promised to one another; simply because Maya loves Ki-Ah, and Ki-Ah loves Maya.

"Hungry?"

Ki-Ah smiles, a breeze against his cheek. "Always."

"Come on," Maya picks himself up, adjusting his pockets. "I'll make you some Pad Thai."

Ki-Ah's toe pokes at the cigs as he adjusts his shirt. "You leaving those?

Grinning, Maya takes his hand. They kiss.

"Yeah. I've decided to quit."

They walk inside, hand-in-hand; Together, no matter what.

* * *


End file.
